


Little Spoon

by KuyaReCom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cold Weather, Fluff, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Spooning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuyaReCom/pseuds/KuyaReCom
Summary: Hong Kong will have a severe case of hypothermia if this cold weather continues. To no one's surprise and his ultimate despair, the blizzard continues and the temperature is dropping drastically.It's been a long while since he has to seek another's body warmth and the ultimate problem here is;- Iceland's the only one available.2 Chapters of Platonic Cuddling





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a 2-chapter short fanfic where Hong Kong and Iceland have a platonic cuddling session. lol.

Hong Kong wakes up in the dead of the night.

The wind whistles and the iron grill on the window rattles, sending a shaking noise into his eardrums.

He lays there on his bed, watching the snowstorm blows silently and pure white sporting the glass-tainted window. He can't see much in the dim room, his brown eyes staring longingly at the scenario unfolding outside.

His body rackets a bit. His face falls into a frown, no, this is not a racket, this is extreme shivering.

Shivering loudly, he rubs his shoulders and curls himself into a small ball, knees bending and hands clutching onto the thin blanket. The region tightens the blanket over his petite body however, instead of slight warmness hitting him, his body suppressed a shiver as the merciless cold easily seeps through. Oh, dear god.

Hong Kong sniffles as the dry air explores his nose, he peeks a little bit from the blanket to see the air-conditioner blowing at the maximum fan and the diagonals glowing in the dark showing **16 Celsius: 01:54.**

His eyes land on a sleeping body on another single bed beside him, white bedhair covering most of his sleeping face. Iceland looks peaceful, assuming that his calm expression and the fact he stretches his arms wide with the blanket only covering his torso, he has that high of a resistance in the overkill coldness?! He should expect more from a Nordic-related nation, he thinks that they only eat Northern fishes and obsess with interior design.

How come he ended up sharing a room with Iceland is beyond reasoning. What he remembers is that Macau (why, brother) ends up with China to prevent China from finishing the rice wine they managed to smuggle in, Korea with Japan much to Japan's dismay and Taiwan shares a family room with the girls. For Iceland's case, he's often in a single room and Denmark came to him in an offer to share a room with Iceland.

Sensei forces him to. Damn you, cheapskate.

Hong Kong inhales a deep breath before draping the blanket over him, covering his frame with only strays of his brown hair sticking out from above.

_Just go to sleep, Hong Kong.. You have a flight to catch tomorrow..._ He thinks frustratingly.

He sneezes.

He sniffles again, sleep isn't knocking him out soon- and it's bloody cold like, freezing!

He shivers again, his system seems to be giving up on maintaining the homeostasis process. He hopes that he doesn't get frostbite tomorrow, it'll be a pain in the butt to handle.

After 5 minutes, which feels like an hour, Hong Kong uncurls himself and puts a foot onto the floor, wincing from the intense tiles icing his feet. He prods carefully and softly to the closet, yanking it open. Rummaging the contents, he huffs in annoyance as there's no spare blanket. Who the hell serves thin blankets to their customers during winter?

He goes to his other side of his single bed and scrambles inside his baggage for a layered shirt he could wear. He's out of clean ones and a pair is already reserved for tomorrow, Sensei will really be mad if he notices him wearing dirty clothes.

Going towards the plug, he reaches for his phone charging beside Iceland's powerbank with a cartoon puffin on it. The owner's phone cased with the Iceland flag design matching it. He checks his phone and is grateful for the warmth the charging has left.

**-45 degrees**

_what the heck._

Hong Kong rubs his forehead, a sudden wave of pain hitting him like a slap at the face, _you've gotta be kidding me._

He searches it using Baidu (Google Chrome is banned for Huawei, huh) and blinks slowly.

He erases the search and engines for _How To Keep your Body Warm._

The coldness creeps into his skin with uninviting presence, he shoves his knees together and instantly reads the answers that pop out.

_Wear a winter hat. _He only brings business suits and 2 pairs of normal clothing.

_Wear thick clothing_. That's out of the picture.

_Use a heater._ Pardon, but this cheap hostel doesn't have a heater.

He relentlessly switches it off but not before he read _snuggle up._

"Snuggle..?" His voice sounds groggy as he whispers to himself.

"That's not a bad idea." He shrugs before heading back to bed.

Searching for his previous spot to spare the warmth his body had left, he groans when he notices that the weather graciously replaces it. Shoving his face into the soft pillow, he wraps it over his head, preparing for himself to take it and just fall asleep.

_whoosh_

_whoosh_

_whoosh_

The wind blows continuously even when Hong Kong drags his face away from the pillow.

"This isn't working." He says in a monotonous voice.

He rolls himself from the bed with unmotivated limbs and is sprawled on the floor like a gracious pancake.

He whimpers quietly, what is this cruel fate? Swearing that he had prayed at his ancestors, he half-crouches, his skin tingling eerily.

Asia is never this cold, they have a lot of climates, typically warmer ones. But Russia is in Asia- and Siberia is a catastrophic venue for the World Meeting, in bloody winter. It's fair since Siberia haven't been used for centuries already, and it's aggravating for Hong Kong since this meeting is when he, a special administrative region and Macau, the only place in China allowed to have casinos, must escort Motherland China to prevent him from scratching America's face and shouting curses in Mandarin while at it.

It was actually fun to watch it. He and Korea recorded it gladly yesterday.

Back to his current situation, Hong Kong leans on his bed frame, the cold steel making him wince.

He stares at Iceland's sleeping face, his mouth opening a bit and his breathing appears to be normal.

Hong Kong crawls closer, leaning on Iceland's single bed frame now. His finger prods the sleeping nation's cheek, his smooth finger dipping into the chubby skin. He smiles softly, a sleeping Iceland is a sleeping Iceland and is pretty much unresponsive just like any normal person. While for him, even a small shake could make him alert from a deep slumber.

While looking at the Icelander's closed eyelids, he finally notices the fact that he lacks body warmth- and he can gain back by snuggling- with someone.

Hong Kong stares at the unsuspected nation's figure, he swears inside his heart that he's not doing this because he's intruding private space, if he does, Korea will be really proud of him. He's doing this because he doesn't want to die out of hypothermia, if that is even possible. No one can't look down on Russian winter.

The region puts one leg on Iceland's bed and hesitates to proceed because he doesn't want to be reported for sexual harassment, he shouldn't be because he'll be a Chinese facing a Russian court with Russian laws. Damn. And he has sleep with Macau and Korea a lot of times, even ending up in a yoga twist mainly with Korea in the morning, the other way around is if he kicks the nation into the floor. Damner of the damn. 

He inches closer to the passive nation, he stops as his innocent heart is rocketed with a humongous ton of guilt and uncertainty. The other's tranquil face making him weighed down by a smack of thoughts circling his brain. The inconceived sweat forming at his spine and abdomen making the coldness to seep even easier, he quivers.

He gulps, voice slowly tricking out, "Hey- Hey, Ice." He shakes the other's arm.

It needs a few hard shakes before Iceland have his eyes fluttered upon, hazy violet eyes looking unwarily at him.

"What's it, Hong..?" His thick accent reveals itself as he asked.

Hong Kong takes a deep breath, he gingerly asks, 

"Can I sleep with you?"

Iceland have a hard processing on the words, he muttered sleepily, "Oh... I'll be going bac- what."

Hong Kong purses his lips, he dislikes repeating the same question but he repeats the words consciously, "Can I sleep with you?"

Iceland now have a more alerted expression, which is soon taken over by Hong Kong's anticipation, an annoyed face.

"No." He answers, also in Hong Kong's guess list.

The Chinese still persist by grabbing the blanket, preventing Iceland from tucking back into sleep.

"Please, Ice?" He mutters through gritted teeth.

Iceland groans, "I'm sleepy here, Hong." Guessing that his attempt to yank back his blanket is futile, he flops back onto the mattress.

Seconds later, he's back to sleep.

Hong Kong scratches his head, tangling his brown hair while doing so. He looks with distressing eyes at the nation's chest puffing up and down, his body is facing the opposite side, presumably not to look at his face before going to sleep. Damn you, Ice.

The Cantonese decides that it's probably the best for both of them that he goes back to his own bed and just try vainly to catch some sleep and get terrible jet-lag when he arrives back at Hong Kong, he hates not getting what he wants but this is Iceland he's talking about.

He raises an eyebrow when he feels that his side of mattress on Iceland's bed is warm, leftover body heat. And _a lot._

Hong Kong thinks about it and smirks a bit before crawling under the covers and draping Iceland's thin blanket over himself.

His loud movements might have waken up the other, or he's probably just pretending to be asleep, jackass.

Iceland stares at him with an irritated face much more effect, he turns his body over to face him directly.

"Didn't I tell you no, thick eyebrows?" Iceland scowls, but in Hong Kong's opinion, looking at him scowling while his white hair is sprawled all over the pillow is adorable.

"Can't waste." He mutters, sleepiness finally knocking in. He adjusts his position to share the big pillow, white hair tickling his face gently.

"Waste what?" Iceland puts more distance between them but not so far as it is a single bed. Their knees are touching but no one dares to move.

"Your body heat." He yawns like a kitten getting comfortable with clean linens.

Iceland's face burns up but Hong Kong doesn't notice as he's focused on those enchanting purple tourmaline irises, grogginess inviting into his brain as he murmurs, "Good night.. Ice.."

His eyelids droop with easiness, leaving an embarrassed Iceland the one to stay awake.

The Nordic nation stares at Hong Kong's figure, his crumbling pink lips parted a bit. Slowly, as if teasing his poor self, Hong Kong curls up like a small kitten searching for encased heat. His spilled brown hair clashing with his white ones, and Iceland could feel his cheeks reddening as it tickles his chin.

He turns over, careful not to prod Hong Kong's bent legs and makes an effort to go back to sleep.

_it has been a long time since he shares a bed with someone._


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this [Tumblr](https://incorrectnordicsquotes.tumblr.com/post/158377065747/iceland-why-you-think-i-might-tell-everybody) post!  
Forgot to put that!  
Iceland's ringtone:  
[Hatari - Hatrið mun sigra (HATE WILL PREVAIL)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTb69WkBbvs&list=RD0pAURAsum4A&index=10)

Hong Kong wakes up with an unexpected surprise.

Counting the occasions he has woken up with delight or an unplanned schedule, there is that one moment when he woke up late and literally dashed to a meeting with a foreign company. He cringes whenever he remembers his crooked tie and creased suit, plus his boss's unbelievable expression that can't seem to be wipen off from his memory. One other example was his nearly first one-night stand, waking up to a shirtless guy in his bed- that was ... revolting. His fellow East-Asians still tease him about kicking the guy's crotch on impulse, sparing his virginity with that action. It's unfair when they bring up that memory like, come on! Old Man was rigorously a 4000 years-old virgin!

But this, this is, _shocking._

Hong Kong has buried his head deep into someone's chest, nestling below the collarbone. He feels snug, the other had his hands placed at his back, pressing their bodies together. He could hear the heartbeats pounding from the other's chest, he feels very comfortable. He inhales slowly, sensing star anise making out a licorice smell and a natural frosty scent that is taking over his brain. A warm, fuzzy feeling is pooling in his stomach just by being in this comfy embrace and his muscles are itching for a smile-

Hong Kong realises something.

He is being spooned.

On this dawning, Hong Kong opens his eyes abruptly. He sees the woolly sweater he's pressed on. He jerks his head upwards and is touching the edge of his nose with a sleeping Iceland.

_He is being spooned by Iceland._

Hong Kong gasps quietly, holy shiz, this ain't happening. 

His face is burning on a slow speed, getting gradually warmer. The pool in the pit of his stomach gets fuzzier and he suspects that it's toying with his brain because dear Jackie Chan, he is being the little spoon.

He stares at Iceland's face, the Nordic nation is still deep in sleep, peaceful wrinkles above his closed eyes and his mouth gaping open a bit. Small snores coming out, making Hong Kong to tug his lips upwards in the form of a tiny smile.

_Cute_.

Back to his scenario, he is cussing mentally in Cantonese and a mixture of English. This is why he sometimes dislike his height, he doesn't have any problem with how tall of a feet he is, puberty is fate. However, he needs to admit it is pressuring whenever he's surrounded by taller people such as Korea or Macau, especially Westerners like Netherlands who was born with an intimidating face and a bonus scar.

Hong Kong is observant. From the first time he met Iceland, he registers that the Western nation is a few inches taller than him. He blamed the heels but it's not the heels' fault. But that small difference in height makes him the little spoon?!

The region holds a deep breath as he watches Iceland's chest rises and falls. As he exhales, he is no longer cold from the air, he is.. warm.

Glancing at the air-cond, he reads **24 Celcius|8:14**. Did Iceland rose the temperature that morning? What a genius you are, Hong Kong, your brain can't function properly to even think about adjusting the temperature. He's fazed by the thought that Iceland didn't shut down the cold air processor, maybe there's a theory that Nordic nations can't survive without being exposed to low degrees of weather.

He perks his head a bit, careful not to wiggle out of Iceland's tight embrace and the blanket covering both of them. The blizzard outside has died, only heavy fallen snow decorating the pale white panorama. The metallic window rails still rattle a bit, sending small sounds besides the whirring of the aircon and small snores coming from the sleeping nation into the dying air.

He settles his head back into the nation's chest, enjoying the warm sensation that overlaps the ever-growing fuzzy feeling in his body. Thinking about the pleasure feeling, his skin tingles with amusement, forcing him to smile and giggle quietly like the brooding teenager he is. His fragile heart is melting unexpectedly and he just wants to ooze into a melted puddle right there, on the bed, in the blanket. Iceland shifts a bit, making Hong Kong's shoulders tense for a split second before relaxing back as Iceland tightens his grip on his waist and spine before nuzzling bashfully into his hair, tickling his forehead with that icy warm breath of his.

The wafting scent of licorice and ice emit graciously from Iceland and Hong Kong gratefully bathes in them. Currently spooning him is a surprisingly warm Nordic nation with a protection aura blanketing his surrounding. Something dings inside his head, this is the perfect cuddling scenario imaginable in any dire of his mind. Bricks tumble without warning inside his still melting heart as his brain embarrassingly screams in an octave he had never reached in his entire life that he really, really, really enjoys getting spooned by Iceland.

_Like; extremely, exceedingly, exceptionally, especially, tremendously, immensely, vastly, hugely - his bloody vocabulary, bloody really enjoys getting spooned by Iceland._

Hong Kong's face is burning so much he swears imaginary steam might be puffing out as he buries his face into his hands, what has happened to him?! It's no secret that he's not a big fan of cuddling, with his geographical lands cramped with people and facing nearly everyday of traffic jams and MRT tin sardines which should be illegal. He's a land-starving personification and very much appreciates his personal space.

He stops his mind-rambling as something nearly shatters his eardrums.

"HATRIð MUN SIGRA, GLEðIN TEKUR ENDA, ENDA ER HUN BLEKKING, SVIKUL TÁLSÝN-"

Iceland groggily commands, "Hey Siri, turn off the alarm..."

Hong Kong sharply inhales, bloody hell? 

_Is that Hate Will Prevail from that BDSM band?!_

A beep resounds from the IPhone and Iceland exhales tiredly, Hong Kong watches carefully as the white eyelashes flutter open, revealing a pair of the gorgeous purple tourmaline. The nation blinks rapidly, his gaze lays on the region's face for a short breath and he ironically freezes. In a flash, he scurries away from the cuddly position and tumbles gracefully onto the floor with the blanket and a sickening crash.

"Ouc- The puffin?!" Iceland shrieks as he rubs his sore butt. Hong Kong reluctantly gets up, shoulders propping on the mattress as he bites back a whine from his sudden human heater disappearance. He trails his eyesight to Iceland's face, a blushing mess- his pale skin shows the obvious tint of red and his eyes are wide as saucers. As soon as they lock with his, Iceland averts his gaze and sputters,

"Wha- What time is it?"

Hong Kong blinks, that question is similar to the _how's the weather?_ but he still answers him, "7.30."

It hits him that he enjoys the cuddling for 15 minutes, it honestly feels like 5.

Iceland turns his head away, not facing the Cantonese sitting on his bed or how his collarbone is disturbingly exposed or that stupid smug look. He reminisces some memories he shares with Hong Kong, vividly thinking about that time when Hong Kong first cracked a smile, he and Liechtenstein celebrated too hard because of this. Snapping back into reality, he says.

"Right. I better be prepared, my flight's this afternoon." He stands.

Hong Kong's face wrinkles a tiny bit, a change in his stoic impression. "Prepare like what?"

"Um.. Eat breakfast? I already packed my luggage." He yanks the thin blanket that tangles over his limbs.

The other pulls the blanket by the edge, "Ice, there's like, 6 hours before your flight. Why spend it all on breakfast?"

Iceland scoffs, he's not asking how Hong Kong memorizes his flight schedule and when has he calculated all the possibilities. "Because I've got nothing to do."

"Outside?"

"Hong, it's literally negative Celsius outside. You want to help me find a pond and start skating? Or do you have another idea?"

The region seems to seriously contemplate this a bit, Iceland is going to turn his back and head for the door, making a mental note to have a light breakfast in the small dining area situated in the lobby. Hong Kong flaps the thin blanket noisily and stretches it to the maximum extent. When he makes sure that he has Iceland's full attention once again, a small playful glint sends a warning for Iceland to brace himself for whatever nonsense joke the other's going to spew from his beautiful mouth. Covering half of his face, Hong Kong knits his eyebrows gently,

"Cuddle?"

Voice as sweet as honeysuckle should be _illegal._

Iceland widens his eyes and restrains a coo because- he can't be serious. He is ready to shrug this off and blasts his way into the hotel corridor to check if his hearing is still not damaged when Hong Kong adorably pleads in that soothing yet tempting undertone, "Please?"

This is the moment when Iceland is glad for his extensive self-control. If not for it; he'll be smashing his head at the nearby wall because the other is respectively being out of character, he wonders if all the action movies and sappy K-pop dramas are affecting him.

"It's not cold anymore." He tries to dig his way out, he suspects that those hazel irises flick in sadness for a sliver but maybe it's the dim light playing tricks on him as those brown-filled orbs are in their usual emotionless state and this is Hong Kong he's talking about!

"Oh, okay." Hong Kong answers, his breath a bit unsteady. Iceland screams mentally, _that sadness wasn't fake then._

He stands there, watching the Asian flops back onto the bed and practically covers his whole petite body with the blanket. He does it with a melancholy way that tugs at Iceland's heartstrings in shame before he snaps to regret his answer. Hong Kong lowers the blanket, exposing his kicked puppy face and the self-pity colouring it. The Nordic takes a deep breath before turning away and literally bolt out of the room in a fit to not embarrass himself further by cuddling with Hong Kong, ever again.

Slanted eyelids shut at the same second the door is smashed into its frame, Iceland's running footsteps growing more distant. Hong Kong sighs, great, he had made his human heater ran away from him. Even so, the temperature wasn't that cold anymore, sure, it was still just hovering over the negative and positive line but at least it doesn't have the ability to frostbite him to death. He rolls and is greeted with some leftover body heat from the side Iceland had slept on. Snuggling into the warm mattress, he relaxes with a small safeness washing over him and begins to drift away for a shot nap before his flight this afternoon. 

He totally like, doesn't wish for Iceland to cuddle or big spoon him.

_________________________________________

Iceland groans in his hands.

He's flattening his back at the corridor wall, visibly just madly dashed away from Hong Kong's teasing and that oh so insufferable request to cuddle. He peeks through his fingers, seeing a pair of red sneakers that doesn't belong to him. _Congratulations, dear self. You not only did cuddle and big spooned Hong Kong but also stole his shoes, bravo._

As if his brain has decided that adding more unreliable feeling inside his head, he thinks. _But I do like it._

He shrieks a bit before pulling his hands away and practically kicks the room door in front of him. Panting slightly, he rests his head on the cool wooden material, hoping to relinquish the disturbing rumbling inside him that longs for a spooning session with a particular Hong Konger he neither wishes nor to ever, forever, think, about. How he wants to throw himself into a volcano, not saying that he did once in New Zealand. He is so occupied he doesn't notice when someone yanks the door open from the other side.

"Oof!" Iceland yelps as he lands into something hard and soft; it clicks; muscles. Whoever he just took a pillow hit on is a nation with muscles and his first thought was Denmark when he smells pugent vodka and an overload of sunflowers. Alarm bells start blaring, he pulls himself back and nearly shrinks in fear after confirming the treachery.

Russia smiles down, he's wearing a baggy turtleneck with his trademark scarf not in sight. Iceland's starting to feel awkward as Russia says cutely, "Oh my, if it isn't Iceland? What are you doing here? Do you need something from your host?"

Iceland barely shakes his head in denial, Russia just continues smiling at him. Finally, what seems to be hours in hell, Russia asks. "Are you hungry?"

His stomach answers him, Iceland have completely forgotten about breakfast as he sheepishly says, "Yes- I still don't eat breakfast. Why ask me that?"

"A particular democratic came banging at my door just now, demanding why there's only fermented or raw fish for breakfast."

"And?"

"He accepts eating reindeer so I shared my borscht with him. Care to have some?'

Something in him nags that he should be refusing because if Finland hears a single story about this, he'll be lectured by the whole Europe and magnificently, the European Union himself. But Hong Kong seems unwavered whenever he addresses Russia so maybe he could take an innocent taste of Russia-cooked borscht..? There he goes thinking about Hong Kong, ugh. Russia ushers him inside and Iceland notices the bulky backpack and a few scattered belongings, the bed is already tucked properly and an opened laptop on it. The scarf Russia usually wears is draped over a wooden chair. A steaming pot of borscht is settled on a table near the window, he is pretty sure that they aren't allowed to cook inside their rooms. Well, Russia legitimately owns Siberia including this hotel so that's not a problem for him.

He removes the sneakers and senses Russia glancing at them before their attention is focused on the food. The bigger nation scoops out a handful of borscht into a ceramic bowl, giving it to the younger nation. Iceland mumbles a thanks and digs in, he's not an avid fan of warm cuisine but borscht is one of the few he could tolerate with. He slurps, taken aback by the delicious taste. Russia simply stares at him.

"How is it?"

"Delicious."

Russia's smile widens, "Thank you! America tried to deny it but borscht is my specialty!"

Iceland holds the warm bowl between his thighs, "How did he react?"

"He compared it with chicken soup." He sounds mildly offended.

Iceland returns his attention to the brown meat soup, eyeing the chunks of meat swirling inside it. The Eurasian asks him, breaking the feeling in the air.

"Why did you kick at my door?"

Instantly, he wants to shrink. He should've expected this question, a familiar question on why someone would intrude someone else's privacy, especially when it comes to heavily-censored countries such as Russia. He isn't on the same level as China but he controls and manipulates facts better than any formidable nations. Iceland feels some sort of guilt because judging by the opened laptop, Russia must be in the midst of work when he kicked his door out of frustration.

He opens his mouth, closes it again. "Well, I was dealing with an explosion. I'm sorry that I interrupted you."

Russia doesn't seem fazed about the apology, making Iceland impossible to interpret whether he's accepting it or not. Instead, Russia speaks. "Are you?"

"Not now. The food subsides the feeling for a bit."

Thankfully, Russia minds his own business and doesn't prod further, it's awkwardly disturbing. More awkward when he takes that he's in the nation's room and worse, actually invited to enter a personal bubble. How could things get more awkward? When Iceland shockingly asks something that pops and should never be asked in the first place.

"Have you slept with someone?"

The other seems taken aback, completely unprepared for a sudden attack on his bed life. Russia gains his composure quickly, he doesn't mind much as he answers dully. "Of I course I have, da? We nations do have sex, especially when we have bo-"

Iceland hisses, "No, not that kind of sleep!" His face burning like a volcano from the false translation.

Russia quiets, his cheeks a bit tingly pink. "You mean, a normal sleep?"

"Clearly not a one-night stand or sex."

"Da."

"Who?"

The nation stops, weighting the consequences he'll take if he answer the question flooding with curiousity.

"China-" _Probably when they were kids and still immature, China gets really cranky with his personal space._

"Ukraine-" _She's her sister, that's expected._

"Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia-" _Poor souls._

"Prussia-" _Ok, ok, wow. Last time anyone checked, Prussia would rather die than share a bed with Russia._

Russia shudder, "Belarus." _That's.. frightening._

"And some few humans you won't know, except for Anastasia." A solemn smile. Iceland is sure about memories fade no matter how much it hurts, but in Russia's case, it's obviously not.

He knows that that wraps it all, he has an instinct that Russia isn't telling him something but it's a must when conversing with him. He finishes his bowl of soup before placing it on the table, prodding the marble tiles with his toe, he asks. "Do you like to cuddle?"

He stares longingly outside the window, the snow is thinning. "Not much."

"Do you ever handle a case where you want to cuddle someone or is being cuddled?"

"Rare."

"How about ... sleeping with someone that wants to cuddle you but they won't dare?"

"They're feisty."

"How do you know that?"

"Ukraine sometimes, because of her large size. Prussia, when he's longing for human contact but doesn't want to damage his ego."

"That's- the reason?"

"Da. Might look petty but cuddling is actually good."

"How?"

Russia contemplates on answering him, it's a rather sensitive question but he had already stepped on a landmine when he started answering the suspicious and privacy-intruding questions.. "Safe. It makes the person being cuddled safe."

Iceland's fingers twitch, _that was the whole can you cuddle me from Hong?_

"How did you handle it?"

Russia returns his violet eyes to Iceland, mouth not forming a smile but an uncommon neutral one. "I cuddle them instead."

Iceland have a split image where he imagines the nations getting cuddled by Russia. In admitting the truth, it appears nice when Russia is the biggest nation of all and keeping someone safe from the outside world. It doesn't suit his personality traits but he isn't in the place to judge the Russian, it's very awkward that he complies to everything that Iceland deliberately pushed out.

"Um.. Thank you, for answering." Iceland lands on Russia's white-ish orbs before landing on the air-cond, it is unusually closed but he reads out: **11:54**

He immediately jumps into a stand, he's been in this room for that long?! The owner looks at him with precaution, daring him to make an abrupt move. Iceland gratefully rolls out, "I must go now, I'm sorry for disturbing you and thanks for the borscht, it's really good!"

He rushes to lace the red sneakers, black and white shoelaces knotting with each other as he fumbles with the remaining edges.

"Are you the cuddler or the cuddled?"

Iceland's systems shut down for a moment, he turns his back to be greeted directly with Russia in his personal space. The creepy intimidation despite the smile growing thicker as Russia leaned closer.

"Ho-How?" Iceland breaths. It is forgiven, Russia won't let him go that easy.

"I recognise a Made In USA when I see one, I recognise the attention-hogging Made In China when I see one." He's sharp at the red sneakers belonging to Hong Kong the Icelander is wearing. "Besides, you smell different. A mixture of gunpowder, milk tea and herbs." As if to empathize his remark, he adds. "Being cuddled by China is impossible, only Hong Kong remains."

It's scary whenever a nation puts two and two and doesn't get four because the digits are doubled three times.

That's why Iceland immediately answers in a tone that is intended for a screaming, 

"CUDDLER!"

He clamps his mouth shut with his hands, Russia isn't taken aback like before but is apparently smiling in amusement. As if he expects the answer and how Iceland will deliver it. Iceland stands there, in the room with a door separating Russia's room with the connected corridor, covering his mouth because of an outburst that he blames for a chance a volcano in his place is erupting,- and that affection coursing through his veins, a swell of pride gloating at how he admits that he cuddles Hong Kong and a trail of dread because admitting that he cuddles Hong Kong is something he eventually enjoys and longs for more.

At the other end of the corridor, in his makeshift fort on Iceland's bed, Hong Kong sneezes like a kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **hello kitty: i still cant stan that we cuddle last n8**
> 
> **iceclacier: shut up.**
> 
> **hello kitty: U WERE SPOONING ME**
> 
> **iceclacier: Let's remember who's the shorter one here.**
> 
> **hello kitty: ure the big spoon**
> 
> **hello kitty: thats unacceptable**
> 
> **iceclacier: And you're the small spoon!**
> 
> **hello kitty: every1 <3 being the smol spoon!**
> 
> **iceclacier: Prove it.**
> 
> **hello kitty: IT MAKES ME FEEL SAFE!**
> 
> **iceclacier: Wut.**  
  
**hello kitty: Shaisen.**
> 
> **iceclacier: Don't ditch me, you dick!**
> 
> **iceclacier: Hong.**
> 
> **iceclacier: Hong Kong.**  
  
**iceclacier: Hong Kong Special Administrative Region Of The People's Republic Of China.**  
  
**iceclacier: Hello Kitty.**
> 
> **iceclacier: Wow, you're really ditching me.**
> 
> **iceclacier: Jackie Chan sucks.**
> 
> **hello kitty: YOU TAKE THAT BACK.**
> 
> **hello kitty: JACKIE CHAN IS A MAN NOT WORTH OF YOUR DISGRACE**
> 
> **iceclacier: Heh.**
> 
> **hello kitty: AND I'M NOT DITCHING YOU, I WAS JUST- thinking that I love getting spooned by you!!!**
> 
> **iceclacier: Oh, okay, well I love spooning you.**
> 
> **iceclacier: Oh my god.**
> 
> **iceclacier: How do I delete that text! This IPhone's new, oh my god, oh my god.**
> 
> **hello kitty: omfg**
> 
> **hello kitty: does that mean we can cuddle and spoon a8?**
> 
> **iceclacier: In your dreams.**
> 
> _________
> 
> And that wraps the whole story!  
I swear I don't write this fanfic because I want platonic books about HongIce or because I'm a HongIce stan, haha, YES.  
What do you think of this? I add Russia because he's pretty underrated in HongIce tropes and owns the very setting, Siberia. But also because I'm now a huge RusPrus stan right now.
> 
> Should I write more cuddling/spooning fanfics?... Idk.. The horrible fluff is motivating me and this is the first Hetalia fanfic I ever completed-
> 
> Find me on Wattpad: KuyaReCom (strongly pointing that I'm not a Filipino or male)


End file.
